Make Or Break
by BbuLeu
Summary: *Edited & REPOSTED* My own take of the break up of Bulma and Yamcha, in which some truths are discovered but they're bittersweet, and friendship is such a strong bond.


**A/N:** took this down because it was rated wrong (though it was never a prblem before) so I'm upping it to M since it suggests _adult _adult themes and those below the age of 16 would obviously feel traumatised by my storie -_- so it's M rated, but no smut I'm afraid. I'd rather be safe than sorry.

**And please review**! I lost all my old reviews when the original was taken down and some of you know I hate begging for reviews, so reading this I hope you understand how bummed I feel losing what little (but absoutly amazing!) feed back I had... please?

Bulma had been acting strange all week. Yamcha really couldn't think why. Yes, Goku, her oldest and closest friend, had returned from space almost a year after defeating an intergalactic tyrant. Yes she met some young lad (a super Saiyan, no less) who claims to be from the future. Yes she knew that there was a chance that in three years they would be facing an inevitable battle with deadly androids ultimately spelling out death. And _yes_ she was fully aware of the obnoxious murderer sleeping under her roof.

Even so, Yamcha couldn't understand why she so- quiet. It was so unlike Bulma to be distant and- quiet. To be in a roomful of people and not delve into a conversation about anything and anything like the blue haired wonder she truly. And she hadn't even noticed she was doing it until he called her, yanking the woman out of her thoughts as she stared into space. She would murmur something about nothingand briefly shake her head slightly. In the same second she'd run her smooth hands through her aqua locks and flash a smile that would fit easily on the red carpet amongst actors heading towards their big moment, though her deep blue eyes wouldn't quite match.

_No. She's definitely acting funny. And I gotta know why!_

* * *

Bulma slurped at her Rich-Raspberry milkshake focusing entirely on watching the pink froth drink zoom up the fun shaped straw. It was so nice of Yamcha to treat her. It was simple and they'd been here hundreds of times since their teens, but she still loved it here. They'd serve the thick drinks in tall glasses with different colour stirrers poking out the top. Today, hers was cat shaped, and his was spiralled. She waited for him to finish his massive gulp of Choco-Orange before thanking him. He squeezed her hand in acknowledgment. He let go to push his glass away slightly, the look of concern unmistakable on his usually quirky face.

"Bulma, baby. What's the matter? You've been acting all weird these past few days. I know it's been one helluva week and, heh, it's gonna be one helluva long three years, but still- it's not like you. You're usually a little go-getter!" he released a small breathy laugh before looking back into her clear eyes. "I'd have thought that you would've finished that new invention by now, or at least have dragged me out shopping. But I've barely gotten ten words out of you all week and I- I'm really worried about you, babes."

Bulma blinked at him and looked at her glass as she though of an answer. _So he had actually noticed_? The last thing she wanted was to worry him and she felt a tiny pang of guilt over what she'd been pondering. Her usually quick mind could replicate technology from light years away and ruin a competitive company with one remarkable idea and yet she couldn't solve her own problem. As well as confusion and guilt, humiliation now reared its ugly head. Her cheeks became noticeably pinker.

"I'm fine Yamcha. Just- it's a lot to take in. One thing at a time, maybe, but in one day?" She twirled the leaf-embossed green stirrer around the glass, making a little _ting _noise now and then. The sound was pleasant and welcoming, and offered the perfect distraction. "Don't worry about me, Yummy-cha." She nursed her milkshake noticing the dubious look on his face. "Really." she added.

Yamcha took her word for it and grabbed her right hand with his left, rubbing it gently with his thumb before the both of them delved back into their drinks and forgot all about the subject. From the pleasant talk and the way they left together, hands in each other's back pockets, you wouldn't have thought there was a single problem in the world.

But there most defiantly was. Although Bulma had lied about it, her brilliant mind had finally decided how to solve it once and for all.

* * *

"Bulma! Yamcha's here!" Mrs Briefs called up to her daughter in her unique singsong voice.

"I'm standing right on the stairs." The blunette couldn't help but smile when she caught her mother out." You don't have to yell, mum."

"Oops, I'm sorry sweetie. Have a nice day you two- how sweet!"

Rolling her eyes, Bulma strolled out to meet her childhood sweetheart. Yamcha blinked at how gorgeous she looked. The three quarter blue jeans were much like her, but it had been a while since he saw her wear something as simple as the white blouse, and the dusty-pink court shoes brought a rare delicate look to her. Furthermore, her hair had recovered from its permed state (Perm-zilla he had once called her, only to receive a good smack to the side of the head) it fell down past her shoulders, slightly wavy and vibrantly blue.

"Hey" she winked in his direction. "All set for a morning walk with me?"

When he failed to remember how to speak, she grabbed his large hand and headed towards 's very own park. They didn't see a single soul for the entire journey apart from the odd chirping bird, and just talked about food, the trees, the weather, his career, her career, seeing Goku after all that's happened, leading them right back to food again. A little awkward silence fell between them for a few minutes but neither broke it until they reached the small lake.

It truly was late spring. The pinkest of cherry blossoms on the trees was slowly being pushed out the way by bright green leaves. Pale pink fluttered around them and puddled by their feet. It was here Bulma stopped and stopped. She turned to him, taking one massively deep breath, and opened her eyes again.

"Yamcha."

Dread seeped into his face and the serenity they had both felt moments ago disappeared faster than the petals could fall. "Bulma, what's wrong?"

After gulping slightly she looked him straight in the eye. "Three years. We have only three years until those Androids come and we could all die. That super Saiyan boy told us that they killed everyone. Including you. Especially you. Just three more years and it could happen again, to us. I know that we've been in life or death situations before, Yamcha, I'm not denying that, but this time… It's different," she stressed, her hands thrown flat against her chest. "Something _inside _me is telling me that things are going to change big time. In three years, my life will change drastically like never before…I- I just _know _it!"

He held up his clenched hands between them. "Don't you worry about them, Bulma. We'll be ready for 'em! We'll take them down easily, just you wait and see," he said smugly.

"No!" She flew her own hands over his. "Don't you see? This isn't the same as the opponents we've faced over the years! We know who they are, what they're like, how long until they get here-"

"-It was like that with Vegeta and that other Saiyan-!"

"BUT it just feels _different_! I'm sorry Yamcha, but something's telling me that's things will change." She pushed his hands back down to his sides. "That's why I was thinking… Before anything else happens to us… I think we should- legitimise our relationship."

"W-what?"

"You heard me."

"M-married?" Yamcha was visibly trembling in front of her. "What's brought _all this _on?"

Bulma turned away and put her hands over her eyes in embarrassment. _He took it well then, _she mentally screamed at her self.

"Come on! A few years from imminent death- your second!-, the fact that we've been dating since we were teens, we're both almost thirty… that I'd be happy to call you my husband? Or has all of that completely washed over you, idiot?" she screeched in his face.

Yamcha stammered. "Yeah but- but-" the words gave up on him when he saw a tear escape her eye. She angrily brushed it away hoping he hadn't noticed. He drifted over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Is this why you've been quite all week? Because you want to be married?"

Bulma tried to keep her tears at bay as she stared at his chest. "I- I just don't want to… d- die alone!" she cried out. She fell into his chest and he awkwardly hugged her. "I-I- I hated the way I f-felt alone when you w-were killed by that big, ugly, bald-headed Saiyan! I felt s-so helpless every t-time I was alone on Namek because I worried th-that I was going t-to be blown up and no one was there to hold me or say goodbye to me!

"And worst of all I feel so selfish that it's all I can think about and it makes me seem incredibly childish, like some stupid little girl whose put a net curtain on her head and called herself a bride too many times!" she yelled, slamming her fist upon his chest in utter frustration.

Yamcha looked down at her sobbing into his shirt. He felt so bad. She was right in every sense- they _have _been going out since forever- they were each other's first loves for Kami's sake! It's true that those Androids were a huge threat, especially after hearing first hand from that purple haired guy how they left the world barren and broken, and it was true that they made a good couple. _Good_, he admitted to himself, but not _great_.

He pulled her away and looked at her. "Bulma… Bulma listen to me! I understand how you must feel about this but… It's not the right way. Think about it. You act like you need to be married. _Need. _Not want."

"Yamcha?" she squeaked up at him. Tears forgotten, she paid close attention to every word, every expression.

"If there was no threat, would you still feel like you _need _to be married?"

"I… No, but-"

"But you'd want to. That's what you should really feel Bulma. You should become somebody's brilliant and perfect wife not because you feel you have to, but because you'd want you. And he should feel every bit the same way."

"So what? You don't _want _to marry me?"

"No!" experience had taught him that she'd ignore him and continue ranting anyway, so he gently clamped his hand to her mouth. "Don't put it like that! But I'll admit- not once did I ever truly consider it. Honestly, it was a nice thought, but it's not for me, not right now." He looked away. "And I thought it wasn't that big a deal for you too. We've never brought it up."

"We were always gonna have this discussion at some point, weren't we?" she hiccupped, running the back of her hand across her delicate nose.

"Yep, I guess so."

They didn't know what to say to each other for several minutes. They wandered over to a simple stone bench under the tree that was throwing pink petals at them like confetti. _How very ironic? _They both mused.

"I'm sorry," one of them sighed finally. "I'm sorry that I've pressured you into a long lasting relationship that was set to fail."

"No, I'm the one that should be sorry for stringing you along without a second thought as to whether you felt that same as me."

"It seems neither one of us can give what the other wants, eh?"

"Yeah."

They were quiet once more, but this time there were the sounds of birds and rustle of branches in the wind. The ex-lovers had only just noticed that these sounds had been absent earlier in what had been the most awkward silence of their lives, as if the whole world was holding its breath.

"Bulma, I'm also sorry I haven't always been as, err, serious in our relationship over the last few years. And those couple of girls- I really don't know what I was thinking… I'll always feel guilty about that."

Bulma hummed and nodded. "Don't worry about it. It- it helps a little bit now to think that there's a reason or two as to why we aren't one hundred percent right for each other. Though at the time, I'll admit I was livid!" she half smiled. Her face soon fell though. "And all this time, I thought that you were the only one out there who could ever put up with me. Who else would have me as a wife? "

"Please don't think of yourself like that, Bulma. Any man would do anything to have you hold him. Even die."

"Ha, that's if I don't drive him to self destruction, knowing me." She chuckled. It came out as a shaky laugh instead as her words echoed behind her glistening eyes, the colour of oceans and just as watery.

Eventually that somehow turned to face each other on the grey stone bench.

"I'm sorry I was such a bitch."

"And I'm sorry I was such jerk."

Both started chuckling then. "But one day, we'll be sure to find someone who will love us despite of those things."

They waited until the sun was at its highest point before walking past the trees, switching its decorations from spring blossoms to summer leaves. The air won't smell quite as sweet anymore, but it will be filled with warmth. Reaching her house, he hugged tightly her at the front door and she hugged tightly back. He just wanted to run his hand through her hair just one last time and she mourned that fact that she would never kiss his strong jaw again. They both silently lamented for the last thirteen years they had shared together, but smiled as they both welcomed the rest of their lives.

"I'm so glad we've finally made things clear. I hope that we can… still be friends?" Bulma flinched at the cliché but the right words had failed her.

"Are you kidding? You're one of my best friends! Always have been, always will." Yamcha ever so lightly nudged her shoulder and noticed her cerulean eyes were never more bright than they were right at that moment. "I love you Bulma, just not in the right way."

"Right back at ya. It was a make or break moment after all." With one more small hug, Bulma and Yamcha went from childhood sweethearts to lifelong friends and went their separate ways.


End file.
